Transcendence is all about the wait, here in our choked-out summers and heartfelt bets. Given enough time and spite everything will change. We shrink and rot towards those golden autumns, wearing away in torn nails and frayed touch. The flocks unfold their eyes and wander, we spread out wide our dreams to fly. The hour bared never like shoulders but like teeth. The moment betrayed before it has passed. You alone arrive unscathed.
There you are hiding among all those birds and flowers. There you go descending with the wind. Each breath drawn tight then abandoned. Each step like a warning of better things to come. You linger like rain along the ocean. You shine like the startled fall of sudden stars. That taste of salt. That sheen of sweat. All the lovely skulls so full of your eyes. All the lovely flesh so blessed by your bones.
Even this won't last forever. Even you will become another before the wheels wear down. I will slow to a leaky faucet tempo. I will pace an encumbrance of dust. The dreams go wild as the memories stretch and dim. All that is familiar pasted against the wide horizon. Crowds and strangers cluttering the flickering days. Still there is that bluff of sky, that reach of solemn pines. Your eyes lit with bright laughter somehow amid the blue above. Your laughter threaded through these slips and patches, your skin as warm and true as spring.